Hating, Forgetting, Remembering
by Doubleblade Miriko
Summary: Slowly, everything else was being stripped away, all the excuses, all the falsehoods, all the beliefs. He was forgetting them, remembering who he was and learning to hate again. It would carry him through the fire unburned or they would all burn with him. One-shot.


**Warnings/Notes: Non-descriptive violence, slight insanity, high levels of hostility.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, nor the characters associated with it.**

oOoOo

He couldn't stop hating.

There he was, sitting in his cellar with blood soaked hands and an empty bottle of vodka and he just couldn't stop hating.

Not that there was anything wrong with hating, there had never been. Hate had sustained him, made him strong when the whole world had wanted to make him weak and bring him down. Hate had given his eyes a mad glow, made his aim true and unwavering, every last one of his hits lethal.

But now it just couldn't, wouldn't, _maybe it shouldn't, _leave him alone.

A cry of hatred and rage and loathing emerged from his throat, tearing at his innards, hooks of hatred drawing the sound from his throat in a one bloody note that just didn't seem to stop.

"HOW DARED HE DO THIS TO ME?!"

His pipe connects with something living, or is it his fist, he doesn't know anymore, the only thing that matters is that there's blood and the living thing screams and begs for mercy as another rib is broken to tiny pieces. He heaves for breath, eyes not seeing the form before him, but seeing the man, the nation, the cruel, twisted, betraying, filthypileofshithewasgoingtokillhim, instead.

"DO YOU HEAR ME?! HE MADE ME LIKE THIS! HE MADE ME WEAK, WEAK, HE TOOK EVERYTHING I WANTED TO HAVE AND GAVE ME LIES, LIES, ALL LIES!"

There were so many hits now that he couldn't even count them anymore, he wanted to get the hate out, exhaust the anger, quell the loathing so he could sleep and think and continue to live his life now that it was all said and done. It was over. He didn't even want it back, in reality.

But the hate persisted, hungry, demanding for more. So he could only obey, listen to the whispers of his old friend and obey. He pressed himself against the body that was already going cold and sunk his teeth to the throat, not the throat he wanted to tear but this was closer and would have to do now, and tore it open with all the force of his hatred.

Blood, the rest of it that hadn't bled out already, stained his shirt, hair and the floor beneath his feet. It smelled like hatred and death and tasted like satisfaction and revenge. Revenge dripping down his throat and hatred, his hatred, smearing the walls and the floor, winking at him from every drop of red.

_You know what the worst part was? He tried to make you forget me. You can never forget me. I'm the one that has been here from the dawn of your life and I'll be your doom too, the only thing that is certain._

"Da… He tried to make me forget. He tried to make me weak. I want to purge him from me, burn away every last bit of him, and every last speck of weakness… I will wash myself in you, again and again until he is gone…"

He sunk to the floor, sat on a puddle of drying blood, covered in it and smiled as he felt it burning, he felt that man burning. He would never be like that again, he should have never forgotten.

"I should have never forgotten that I, and I alone, stand against the world, no matter how times it changes. Now they will all remember why they stood against me in the first place."

It felt like ages before he woke up from the burning and hatred and madness, but when he did, it was to a comforting voice that called his name, a soft touch to his shoulder and lips next to his ear that brought him back. Those were always the things that brought him back now.

"Ivan, are you done here for the night? I'm tired as hell. I think that guy ain't breathing anymore anyway."

"No, he is not breathing at all, has not been breathing in a while now I think… I burned him."

"I think you more beat him to death and bled him dry than burned him." He didn't need to see the cocky, a bit twisted smirk on other's face to know that it was there.

"No Gilbert, I burned him. He burned with me. They will all burn with me."

The other went still against him, but he knew that it wasn't from fear. No, no. It was because he felt the burning too.

"Then I wanna front row seats to that show."

oOoOo

AN: I haven't written anything in a long time, which I find rather sad. There has been a lot going on in life, a lot of it that inspired this piece of fan fiction. Ivan is the best conduit for my own hate now, as he and Hetalia in general were a big thing a year ago when the madness of social failure started. I wanted to showcase the intensity of his hate, how it twists his thoughts and makes him unable to control himself. On some level, this can be seen as my interpretation of the current global politics and Ivan's emotions that are powering his decions right now, e.g. the feeling of standing alone against the world. The one Ivan hates in this is America and most of the Western ideologies, at least that's how I thought it. He felt them as an intrusion to his way of doing things and for a while he tried to change but found that impossible and ended up, once again, returning to his old friend/enemy Prussia. If you want the last scene to be a pairing, that's very much up to you and how you see their relationship. But, tell me what you think, over and out!


End file.
